


The Long Road

by inqwex



Series: All Roads Lead To Rome [2]
Category: Station 19 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Slow(er) burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 03:26:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17675564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inqwex/pseuds/inqwex
Summary: They were always ending up together.





	The Long Road

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this as a Flashpoint chapter, but it's so long and that set of initially unrelated scenes that is the Flashpoint story has sort of accidentally settled into an arc that I felt I'd publish this separately. Hope you enjoy!

He’s trying not to flirt, he really is. She’s cutting another slice of cake, her gaze directed down, so he allows himself the luxury of letting his eyes drift to her lips.

 _She’s barely out of her rookie years_ the sensible voice in his head says (again).

And so later, after cake has been had, he forces himself to step backwards as she leans into his space.

She looks embarrassed. Hurt. Disappointed. And his heart clenches.

“I can’t,” he says, wanting desperately to wipe that look off her face. “I – you – it would be wrong of me.”

She studies his face for a long moment, and he takes a breath, and allows her to see that he does want her. [Desperately].

“You’re my boss’ boss’ boss,” she says quietly, with a hint of bitterness.

“You’re extraordinary, Victoria,” he replies softly. “You deserve more.”

So much more than what he can offer; two ex-wives, half a lifetime of bad habits, her (and his) reputation in tatters, and secrecy and misery.

It would have to have been secret.

She looks away and gives a pained smile.

“Sure,” he can tell she doesn’t quite believe him, that she thinks he’s brushing her off.

 _It’s better that way_ , he tells himself, clenching his hands inside his pockets. “Well, enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You too,” she gives him a half-hearted quirk of the lips.

* * *

 

He doesn’t see her again for a few weeks. Lucas tells himself that he’s going to 19 because it’s the epicentre of the storm.

It’s at least partially true, although he could’ve gone to 23 instead and not seen her.

But he wants to see her. He’s not doing anything inappropriate as long as he doesn’t touch her, doesn’t flirt with her, and doesn’t …

Well. As long as he’s not a creep.

[She’s closer in age to his eldest nephew than she is to him].

She looks uncomfortable at line up, and he forces himself to look away from her. He’s not trying to make her uncomfortable.

But seeing her fills him with a warm feeling, and he can’t help but sneak a couple of glances in her direction as Sullivan and Herrera head off in the aid car.

She’s so pretty his heart hurts.

He goes to his truck to collect his turnouts, and of _course_ she’s in the turnout room stocking cylinders when he goes to stow them away.

She looks up as he enters, smiling awkwardly at him.

“Chief,” she says gamely.

“Hughes,” he replies. He hangs his jacket, and checks to make sure no-one’s around. “19’s the epicentre of this storm, that’s why I’m here. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I can be professional,” there’s a spark in her eye and Lucas’ stomach flips.

He doesn’t say that he’s worried about whether he can remain professional with a firefighter he owes a duty of care to.

“I wasn’t questioning that,” he says softly.

Then there’s a long moment where he _knows_ he’s gazing into her eyes but he just can’t look away. They’re so big and brown and expressive.

Thankfully before he opens his stupid mouth to say something stupid and unprofessional (like how beautiful her eyes are), Gibson walks in.

“I’ll let you get back to it,” he says quickly, and hurries out of the room.

* * *

 

Gibson’s the type to run headlong into danger, and Lucas wants to see how he’ll do staying back at the station.

He also does want to see Bishop in action. He hates formal sit down interviews; they don’t really give him a full idea of the candidate. He’d rather watch them actually doing the job they’re applying for.

Hughes is in the back, and she stays silent as Bishop makes awkward, rapid-fire chatter.

Then a tree goes through the Engine’s windshield, and he assigns Bishop to take care of the job. She rattles off instructions, and leaves Hughes with him.

He doesn’t look at her, and grabs a chainsaw. He feels her come up beside him, and hears a roar as she starts her chainsaw.

“Here we go,” she says, grimly, and he slants his gaze in her direction. “Keeping it professional.”

“Absolutely,” he says firmly. “Professional.”

Professional except for some not-so-professional glances he throws at her. He slides another one over, only to catch her giving him a not terribly professional glance back.

“I know this is strictly professional, but I love having chainsaw power in my hands,” she says with an embarrassed grin.

“Nothing wrong with loving the job professionally,” Lucas returns with a shy sort of smile.

He’s not flirting, he’s just…

Bantering?

He’s so distracted that she has to point out the smoke to him.

“Aw, shit,” they hurry and clear the road, and have each started one of the trucks as Bishop comes racing up to them.

“Fire!” she yells.

“I know,” Ripley yells back. “Get in.”

Lights and sirens back on, they race to the house. The top storey is alight, and Warren’s missing.

Bishop and Hughes immediately hurry in. Lucas makes himself useful by helping Montgomery assess the infants and the mom. They’re fine, so he turns back to the house. Every second that passes feels like an hour, and he breathes a sigh of relief as first Warren, then Bishop and Hughes emerge from the house, the grandmother carried by them.

He can’t help but flash a relieved smile at Hughes, but covers it as quickly as he can by radioing dispatch.

* * *

 

It’s always the turnout room.

The door opens behind him.

“Hey,” he says as she heads past.

“Hi.” She starts to put away her turnouts. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you in that position the other week.”

“It’s okay,” he says quickly and immediately. “I … shouldn’t have… lead you on, I guess.”

“You know, you’re not usually my type,” she says, looking down and turning out the sleeves on her jacket properly.

“Oh?” he bites off the end of the question, but she answers anyway.

“Assholes, idiots, one night stands,” she replies, waving at his general direction. “You’re a bit more … Boy Scout.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says, smirking at her.

“I meant it as one,” her eyes are so soft, and her lips look so…

“If we were in a bar, I definitely would,” he says, forcing his eyes back to hers. “But it would be unethical of me here.”

“If we were in a bar I’d consider it,” she says archly, tossing her head and giving him an impish smile. He laughs. “Look, there’s nothing against us being friends, is there? You must have friends? I mean, friends who are firefighters, not that I think that you don’t have any friends at all.”

“I have firefighter friends too,” he smiles at her adorable-awkwardness. “Actually, Sullivan and I were best friends, back in the day.”

Her eyebrow arcs. “Were?”

“Long story,” he says abruptly, and seeing her expression start to close, adds hastily, “Sullivan’s story, more than mine. It wouldn’t be right for me to –”

“Sure, Boy Scout,” she cuts him off with a smile. She eyes him for a moment, and extends her hand. “Friends?”

“Friends,” the word sits somewhat heavy in his mouth and he suspects their handshake lingers a little more than it ought. But they put away their turnouts in companionable silence.

* * *

 

Vic’s still a little angry at him, if she’s honest. He’d flirted back, and made no indication he would not accept her coming on to him.

Okay, she’s also a bit embarrassed and angry at herself for coming onto her boss’ boss’ boss.

But it’s impossible not to recognise how smart, capable, and handsome he is. She feels like she could drown in his blue eyes. And his curly blonde-grey hair seems to beg for her to run her fingers through it.

He’s also a dork, she’s discovering, and doesn’t mind when she’s awkward and weird around him.

She’ll take friendship, with him. She perhaps shouldn’t have made the offer, but it’s not like he’s the Captain or even her Battalion Chief. And it’s not like they’re going to have coffee. They’ll just be work friends.

Of course, her crush on him is not helped by how good he is at his job. She can’t help but admire how smoothly their rescue of Sullivan and Andy and their patient goes. There’s no messing around, no confusion, no arguing. Just a straightforward down, extricate, retrieve. And it takes hardly any time at all, even with the high winds.

Fortunately, both Sullivan and Andy are relatively unscathed. Andy just has a nasty egg on her head, and probably a concussion although she refuses to go to hospital for it.

“She’s going to lose the leg,” Sullivan comments as he watches their patient being loaded in the car by Travis and Dean. Vic’s not trying to eavesdrop, she’s just…packing equipment slowly.

“Probably,” Ripley agrees. “But you guys did a great job stopping her from dying so…”

“Hope she sees it that way,” Sullivan says grimly. He lowers his voice, and Vic has to strain her ears to hear. “Listen, man to man, do you have a problem with the way I’m running 19?”

Ripley looks taken aback. “I think you need to work on building a relationship with your team,” he says slowly. “But I think you’re doing an excellent job overall. Your numbers remain the best in Seattle.”

“Just you came in and took over this morning,” Sullivan accuses.

Ripley takes a step back.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a moment. “That wasn’t my intention. I’m not a sit back and do paperwork kind of Chief, Sully, I never wanted to be and I won’t be. It was here or 23, the epicentre of the storm, that I figured I needed to be. To be quite honest, I prefer your team. They’re more competent, and I guess as I spent six weeks with them, I’ve … bonded with them a bit.”

“Well, can you not take over? Just observe,” Sullivan almost snaps at him.

What Ripley says next is inaudible, but Vic sees Sullivan stiffen.

Their conversation continues, but she doesn’t really have any further excuse to loiter so she starts moving their gear back into the engine.

“Deal,” Ripley and Sullivan shake hands as she comes back for her final trip.

“And, Sully?” Ripley says. “I’m really, really glad you’re okay. I was worried about you.”

“You were?”

“You’re my friend.” There’s an awkward pause, and Vic _knows_ she’s not supposed to hear this. “Or at least, I consider you one. I understand if you don’t.”

Sullivan sighs heavily. “I’m not angry, as much, any more. You know part of me will always blame you.”

“I understand.”

“But I know you were doing the right thing,” he says, and it sounds like it’s killing her Captain to say it. “And, well, I’ve missed being your friend, man.”

“Friends?”

They shake on it, and Vic sees Ripley’s gaze slide to hers behind Sullivan.

“All done, sirs,” she shouts. As the two men nod, and divide into the two vehicles (the Engine still sans windshield) she drops in beside him. “Two friends in one day?”

He grins down at her. “It’s a new record for me.”

* * *

 

She doesn’t go to the peer group every week.

She goes every _second_ week. And it’s not just to see him; she’s surprised to find it surprisingly helpful.

She doesn’t talk to him every time, but she always smiles and waves at him, and he always returns it. They do have a conversation every second or third time she’s there (so once every four to six weeks). (Not that she counts down the days until she can let herself talk to him at peer group).

She shouldn’t go. She should stop feeding this ridiculous crush.

So Vic goes out with Andy and Maya. Gets tipsy. Flirts with a guy at the bar who looks the exact opposite of Lucas Ripley; he’s a black man who is barely an inch taller than her in her flat shoes and has short hair and brown eyes. Big muscles, not lean muscle. 

And when this guy leans in and kisses her, she flinches back a little. He doesn’t notice.

Ripley would have. He’s always so scrupulously careful with her boundaries, and the ones he erected.

So Vic pulls back, apologises, and goes back to Andy and Maya.

“You’ve just walked away from a total hunk,” Maya says with raised eyebrows.

“Too short for me,” Vic says dismissively, knocking another shot back.

* * *

 

The Joint Emergency Services Ball comes around, and Lucas steels himself for the evening. Sullivan’s sitting with him on the main table (Lucas makes a point of rotating Captains and Battalion Chiefs as his ‘plus one’) and so he knows from their conversations that _her_ shift will be there.

He spots her as they walk in, and he has to clench his jaw to prevent it from dropping to the floor. She is simply stunning, and his heart flips madly in his chest.

“Lucas?” his attention is brought back to the conversation by a local magistrate.

“Sorry,” he apologises and forces his gaze away, hoping no-one’s noticed the cause of his distraction.

If they did they don’t mention it.

He doesn’t speak to her for the first part of the night; content for stealing glances from the top table. He loses sight of her after dinner as she and her team head to the dance floor and he has to continue with the political side that always comes with these sorts of events. Finally, however, the top brass disappear. He’s spotted her again, and so Lucas directs Sullivan to that side of the bar where the two of them order drinks.

The two of them people watch (he watches Hughes), and idly chat about the night, the Seahawks’ chances, and whether Sully wants to join Lucas’ indoor soccer team (he does).

Sully eventually ducks to the toilet, and moments later, Hughes emerges from the dance-floor.

There’s no-one nearby to watch him, so he lets himself check her out.

“As a friend, you look really beautiful tonight,” Lucas says quietly, flushing a little as she checks him out in turn.

“So do you,” she says, turning to the barman and ordering. She pays for her drink and looks over at him.

“Good night?”

“Fruitful,” he replies. “It’s at least eighty percent politics for me now. Sully and I were just talking about how we longed for the days we could gallivant about on the dance floor like you young things.”

She laughs at him and says sarcastically, “sure, you miss the dancing.” He frowns at her. “Oh please, you love the politics.”

He smiles sheepishly. “Busted. See, I’m a boring man.”

“No you’re not,” even in this dark light it’s clear that her eyes dart to his lips. She sighs.

“Are you having fun?” he asks.

“Yeah. I just have a friend I’d like to dance with me.”

He’s about to throw caution to the wind and drag her onto the floor when thankfully Sullivan returns. They both straighten, subconsciously.

“Having a good time, Hughes?” Sullivan’s clearly trying to make nice.

“Yes, sir,” she replies, before grinning impishly. “Good date?”

“Nah, he’s rubbish,” Sullivan is drunk enough to tease, and Victoria laughs again.

“I haven’t seen either of you on the dance floor,” she accuses.

“And you won’t,” Lucas says, leaning back against the bar. “I’m too old.”

“No, just not at all fun,” Sullivan replies dryly. “He was always boring, even back in the academy.”

“Well, come on. Dance with us now,” she says, gaze flickering between them both. “Both of you.”

“Hughes I don’t – ”

“I really can’t –”

Their stammered objections are over-ruled as she grabs them by the elbows and steers them towards the dance-floor as they put up a token resistance. Lucas is somewhat surprised at how readily her team accepts them, but then, they all look pretty drunk.

They dance for a bit as a group in a circle, but then the music abruptly slows.

Lucas knows he has to extricate himself from the situation or there’s a very real chance he’ll dance with her, and then – with how drunk he is and how drunk she is and how ridiculously hot she looks – he’ll have her pressed against a wall like at least half a dozen other couples are.

“That’s my cue to leave,” he says. “I did have fun dancing, though.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night, Chief,” she replies. He drags Sully out with him, and the two men catch cabs home.

* * *

 

It’s Sullivan’s idea of an olive branch, and Lucas’ idea of torture.

It’s December 31st, and _her_ shift is off duty. So they’re at a bar. Sullivan’s there, and he invited Lucas knowing Lucas didn’t have a better offer what with his mum and siblings out of town visiting his brother in California. (Lucas had had to work).

The bar is crowded, and Lucas is sitting with Sullivan at a table in the corner. Station 19’s members intermittently come and go. At the moment, Sullivan is deep in conversation with Warren, allowing Lucas to watch her.

She’s at the bar. She looks beautiful. And she’s flirting up a storm. His stomach’s in hard knots of jealousy, as guy number nine tries his chances.

He stands abruptly, knocking his chair back, as five minutes later, Nine is leaning in to her.

[He can’t watch her kiss someone else].

“Bathroom,” he mumbles to a surprised looking Warren and Sullivan.

He hurries to the bathroom, which is disgusting as only the men's bathroom on New Year's Eve in a pub can be. He takes a leak, and spends longer than strictly necessary washing his hands and composing himself.

He’s a grown man, and she is a grown woman. He cannot be interested in her. He has brushed her off. He has no right to be jealous.

He exits the bathroom and nearly runs her over.

“Sorry,” he tries to push past.

“Is that it?” she sounds disappointed.

“Is what it?”

Her face falls. “You don’t care.”

“I’m your friend, of course I care,” Lucas forces himself to say.

“Lucas.” He reluctantly meets her gaze.

“You’re a grown woman, Victoria,” he says quietly. “You can kiss whomever you like. I just don’t want to watch you do it.”

She grabs his arm as he moves to push past her. “Exactly,” she hisses. “I’m a grown woman. I can consent to this.”

His eyes drop of their own accord down her frame and up.

“I’m responsible for you,” he says desperately and weakly.

“TEN!” a loud roar from inside the bar startles them both, and Lucas looks at his watch to see it’s nearly midnight.

“NINE!”

“A midnight kiss doesn’t mean anything,” there’s a hint of desperation to her voice.

“EIGHT!”

“It might help us get over this,” he tries.

“SEVEN!”

“Yes!” she replies eagerly. “I mean, you might be an awful –”

“SIX!”

“- awful kisser.”

“FIVE!”

“Are you sure?” they’ve drawn to one side, closer together.

“FOUR!”

“Very,” her hand settles on his forearm.

“THREE!”

“Okay.”

“TWO!”

“Okay.”

“ONE!”

She leans up and her lips brush his, a little uncertainly. He kisses her back, intending to keep it chaste.

But then her lips open under his, and her hot tongue darts against his mouth. As he groans, she slips her tongue into his mouth. He kisses her until he’s out of air, thumbs stroking against her cheekbones. He lets his hands drop from her face and pulls back.

“Well that wasn’t awful at all,” she pants, gaze darting to his lips again.

“I have to go,” he says as apologetically as he can with the limited brain cell function he has left. “I _have_ to.”

So he rushes home. And goes to sleep thinking of her.

* * *

She wakes up New Year’s Day with a tall, blonde, blue-eyed guy in her bed. She doesn’t remember picking him up, but she knows exactly why she did.

He even looks a little like Lucas.

It was a stupid idea, kissing him. And she knows he’d never have agreed if he hadn’t been pretty drunk, so she feels a little uncomfortable about that.

But damn, he could kiss. Just thinking about it makes her feel tingly…and then she looks over to the snoring lump beside her and sighs.

She’s done picking up guys. Until she’s over him, anyway. She just feels slightly dirty now, and guilty.

She offers the Lucas-look-alike coffee before she kicks him out of her apartment.

* * *

Vic doesn’t see him again till February. She doesn’t go to the peer group sessions, and he doesn’t come to 19.

And then weirdly, she sees him again when she’s at the mall. She needs new gym shoes.

“Hey,” he says, looking awkward.

“Hi,” there’s no point in doing anything else, so she sits on the same low couch as him but facing the opposite direction. “I need new gym shoes.”

“I need new runners,” he picks up a dilapidated shoe and shows her the hole in the side of it.

“How long have you been running with that?” she asks incredulously. He shrugs sheepishly.

“About three months? Kept putting it off.”

They buy their shoes one after the other, and as they leave the shoe shop, Vic tilts her head towards a coffee shop.

“I was going to get a takeaway –” she says at the exact same time as he says; “I always have to get a takeaway from that place.”

They smile at each other.

It’s not a date if you order takeaway coffees and don’t sit down.

She finds herself telling him about her social basketball team. In turn, he tells her about his indoor soccer team.

The conversation flows surprisingly easily, given the last time they had seen each other she’d stuck her tongue down his throat and he’d run away.

She’s long since finished her ‘takeaway’ coffee, and now is just pretending to sip from an empty cup.

Vic’s pathetic. And she wishes she could be angry at him for just doling out scraps of his time and attention, angry that he runs hot and cold.

But she gets it. Or at least hopes she does. Hopes that he runs hot and cold because he’s telling the truth; he’s genuinely interested in her but feels he can’t express interest because of his position (and not because he’s just playing with her).

But as he tells her about the time Sullivan got him drunk and hung him from the top of an extended ladder to ‘help’ him with a fear of heights, she feels he’s not playing with her.

And his eyes are as blue as the blue fire she then tells him about.

They spend just over an hour and a half standing and talking – not on a date – before her phone rings and they’re jolted back to reality.

* * *

 

Robert doesn’t exactly know when Rip turned into the social one of the two of them, but he finds himself inviting the other man along to any of 19’s social outings he’s invited to. He tries to go, figures that Rip and Herrera have a point about team bonding.

But it’s easier if Rip’s there too. He seems to get on well with 19, and when he’s there, it means Robert can usually just talk to him. Rip seems to like the crew’s company as well.

He realises what’s going on the morning that they go out for a late post-shift breakfast (they had had to work an hour of overtime to help contain a fire. Rip had gotten called to the fire, and had been there from 0100 to 0900 with them, so his PA had cleared his schedule for the day).

“Damn, Chief,” Miller whistles in a low voice as the waitress walks away. Rip’s neck and ears redden and he rubs at his beard, pretending to ignore Miller.

“She gave you her number, right?” Gibson waggles his eyebrows. Rip’s flush covers his whole face now, and he tosses a crumpled slip of paper into the middle of the table.

“Didn’t think anyone did that these days,” his old friend said, trying to pretend he wasn’t blushing.

“I mean, she’s super hot,” Warren observed.

“Ah, not really my type, Warren,” Lucas sounds embarrassed.

“Tall, blonde, big boobs and long legs and super hot isn’t your type?” Bishop asks incredulously.

“Let me see,” Robert replies before Ripley can. “Laura, blonde and tall. Eva, blonde, a bit shorter and a bit curvier.”

“Yes, and I’ve decided my type isn’t like either of my ex-wives,” Ripley’s tone is sharper than Robert’s heard it in a long while. “Given that I divorced both of them, and the last one cheated on me.”

“Right. So you’ve switched to brunettes?” Robert can’t help but tease.

Ripley twists a sugar packet. “No, budget paperwork,” he says tersely. "Much easier than women."

The conversation moves on swiftly, the waitress’ number remaining where it was thrown in the middle of the table.

At one point, Robert has to excuse himself to the bathroom. On his way back, he sees it.

In his absence, Ripley has started talking to Hughes.

The rest of the table is talking loudly over the top of each other, but Hughes and Ripley are just sitting down one end, talking. Hughes laughs, throwing her head back, and Sullivan groans as he sees the look on Ripley’s face.

Crap.

He doesn’t quite know Hughes well enough to know if the depth of feeling is reciprocated, but she’s never smiled at anyone at work quite like that so it’s at least reciprocated some.

Eventually, everyone starts to get up to move except Robert, Rip, and Hughes.

“I need to talk to you,” Robert says to Rip, and at that, he notices in his peripheral vision Hughes’ face fall slightly. He wonders how often they do this, loiter behind after a team event and talk. He hopes it is just talking.

“Have a good day, Chief, Captain,” she says, getting up.

“What’s up?” Rip asks.

“How long has this been going on for?” Robert’s surprised to hear the bite of anger in his voice.

He’s come to like Hughes. She’s far too outspoken for her own good, but she’s competent and honest and she cares about her job (in a different way to Herrera and Bishop). Robert thinks she could be a good officer in a few years.

“How long has what been going on for?” Rip tenses.

“You and Hughes,” Robert says and Rip blushes and looks down. “I can’t believe I’ve only just seen it, but man, I’ve known you for over fifteen years.”

“It’s not going on,” Rip says after a minute, twisting the sugar packet violently.

“Right so all the flirting and the gazing that was happening just now…?”

“Nothing’s going on,” the sugar packet tears. Robert raises an eyebrow pointedly. “I’m serious, Sully. She … she made a pass at me last year, I brushed her off, and that’s all there is.”

“Luke,” Robert says with a sigh. “You were flirting with her.”

“I’m trying not to,” he still hasn’t made eye contact.

“Are you…are you in _love_ with her?” Robert asks quietly after a moment.

“I haven’t touched her,” his friend says firmly. “I know I can’t.”

“God you are,” Robert shakes his head. “Jesus, Luke.”

Luke says nothing.

“How does she feel?”

“I don’t know,” is the reply. “We don’t talk about it.”

“You just flirt.”

“Sully, I’ve told her nothing can happen. There’s nothing wrong with…friendly banter.”

“Just don’t make it too friendly,” Robert says sharply. He sighs, and gets up, clapping the Chief on the shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

“You’re not going to say anything?” Luke looks up at him for the first time in the conversation, and Robert can’t help but feel a little sorry for his friend at the look in his eyes.

“You’ve just said there’s nothing to talk about,” Robert says more gently. “I’m trusting you to keep it that way.”

* * *

 

“Oh, phew, it’s not Frankel,” says Dean, peering through the blinds down at the carpark.

It’s time for their annual inspection by the brass.

“So it’s…” Vic tries to hide the hopefulness in her voice. If it’s not Frankel, it’s either Ripley or the Deputy Chief Reynolds.

“Don’t worry, you get to see your crush today,” Miller teases. "It's the Riptide."

Vic freezes, her face on fire. “What? I don’t…”

She feels the weight of her entire team’s gaze on her.

“Ri-ight,” Travis says sarcastically. “You don’t have a crush on him.”

“He’s the boss’ boss’ boss,” Vic says weakly.

“And you think he’s cute,” Maya says with a shrug. “I mean…it’s adorable.”

Vic opens her mouth, realises she has nothing to say and closes it again.

“Everyone gets work crushes, Vic, it’s cool,” Warren assures her. “I had a huge work crush on Dr Shepherd for a bit there. Not like…into him. Just…he was so cool and good at surgery...it was hard not to admire him.”

“It is okay,” Travis hangs back a bit with her as the rest of the team tramps down the stairs for inspection.

“I didn’t realise I was so obvious,” Vic muttered.

“You weren’t at first,” he assures her. “But like…you kind of flirt with him a lot.”

She flushes anew, and he levels a narrowed glance at her.

“It _is_ just a crush, right Vic?”

“Yeah,” she lies.

As they line up, she can’t look at him and she knows she’s still blushing.

* * *

 

It’s Frankel’s idea to move the district meetings to the stations instead of HQ, but Lucas doesn’t fight her. His heart flips when she says she planned to start at 19, and then next month, they’d go to 23.

So they’re at 19. He got to briefly wave at her this morning when he walked in, but he’s been ensconced in the meeting all day.

“Time for a break,” Sullivan groans, stretching.

“It’s midday,” agrees Campbell, the captain of 23.

“Okay, let’s break for lunch,” Ripley orders. “Everyone be back by 1300.”

There’s a mass exodus of the room, startling Miller as the battalion chief, eight captains, and the chief all spill into the hallway in front of him.

Some of the captains have opted to go outside the station for a bought lunch (there’s a shopping complex across the road).

Lucas brought his lunch, however. He heads towards the kitchen, Frankel, Sullivan and a couple of the captains with him.

They’re in time to see the end of an argument between Hughes and Montgomery. Montgomery’s in tears at the table, and Hughes looks angry as she stalks away to the kitchen.

Lucas knows this is unusual. Montgomery’s her best friend.

But he knows better than to aggravate her, so he strolls in to the kitchen. Raises his hands in the air and says lightly, “safe to approach? I’m just after coffee.”

“Yes,” she says, then glances up from where she’s furiously scrubbing her coffee cup. Her eyes meet his and he sees that she’s barely holding back tears.

“You okay?” it slips from his lips, and she bursts into tears.

Lucas isn’t sure who reaches for whom, all he knows is that in the next moment he’s got her cradled in his arms in a hug that is not-not platonic.

He’s trying to work out what distance his hips need to be at to make it platonic, and he suspects the answer is that it’s not platonic if she’s fully pressed against him. But he doesn’t quite care as she’s sobbing into his collar.

“What happened?” he’s a bit sharper than he means to be with Montgomery.

“A baby died,” Montgomery starts crying as well. “The father had drowned him in the bathtub. Mom came home to find him in the process and called us. They fought.”

“She died on scene,” a muffled voice comes from his collar through sobs. “Bled out from stab wounds.”

“So we transported him, with a minor stab wound to the chest, and the baby,” Montgomery says, sniffling. “But they stopped on the baby. We’d been working for half an hour. They did another half hour.”

“We s-saved the dad's life,” Victoria hiccoughs into his shirt, and he holds her tighter. Her arms tighten around his waist.

“Sometimes the universe lets us save assholes,” Lucas says, knowing he sounds a little choked up himself. “Sounds like you two did a good job.”

He forces himself to let go of her when he feels her sobs recede, and steps back to a respectable distance, clenching his fists so he doesn’t wipe the tears from her face.

“I think, Sullivan, these two should go home,” he says, unable to look at his friend.

“I agree,” Sullivan’s got an odd tone to his voice and Lucas knows there is going to be trouble. “Montgomery, Hughes, pack up and head home.”

Victoria mouths _thank you_ to him and then heads past. Lucas busies himself making a cup of coffee, trying to pretend it’s normal for him to hold one of his firefighters as she cries in front of her captain, a couple of other captains, and her battalion chief.

Actually, it’s good they were there. The context is clear, and it stopped him doing something stupid like brushing her tears away and kissing her.

Campbell, Jones and Lee clearly don’t know what to say about the scene they’ve just witnessed, so they join him in making coffee and getting their lunches from the fridge. Frankel and Sullivan are having a whispered conversation, and he’s unsurprised when Frankel asks if they can have a word.

They’re silent on the way to Sullivan’s office. Sullivan enters first, then Lucas, and then Deb slams the door behind them.

“What the hell, Rip?” Frankel demands, and Lucas just sits in one of the chairs in front of Sullivan’s desk and rests his head in his hands.

“Nothing’s going on,” he says. “I just couldn’t let her cry like that.”

“Jesus, Luke,” Sullivan says.

“I think you are both over-reacting,” Lucas says.

“You’re the Chief of this department and you just held a female, junior firefighter while she cried,” Frankel retorts. “Sullivan says you’ve been flirting with her. You’re opening yourself to a harassment suit, my friend.”

Lucas says nothing.

“When do you see her?” Sully asks.

“I don’t,” Lucas says. “Not outside of here. And she comes to the peer support group sometimes.”

“You’ve never seen her outside of work?” Frankel pressures.

“Sullivan invites me to some of their team events,” Lucas replies.

“I’m going to stop doing that,” Sullivan assures Frankel.

“And we accidentally got coffee one day,” Lucas says quickly, closing his eyes.

“Did you trip? How can you accidentally get coffee?” Frankel’s tone is acerbic.

“I was buying shoes, and she walked into the same shoe shop, and then we got takeaway coffees,” Lucas admits. “But we didn’t sit down and have coffee or anything. We just…stood and talked for a bit.”

“Lucas this could jeopardise your career. It could destroy hers,” Frankel says.

“I haven’t done anything,” he lies, thinking of lips and tongues pressed together on New Year’s.

“You’re a shit liar, Lucas. You always have been,” Sully accuses.

“She kissed me on New Year’s,” he can’t make eye contact with either of them. “I didn’t push her away like I should’ve. _That’s it_ , I swear.”

“That’s why you raced out like the Devil was chasing you,” Sullivan sighed.

“This is pathetic,” Sullivan shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. “So there’s one kiss, one coffee date, and you just holding her in front of half the district brass.”

Deb’s pacing.

“You need to cut off contact with this girl,” she says. “I’m coming to the peer support groups now.”

Lucas winces. The peer support group won’t wok with her there. He’s aware her manner rubs most people the wrong way.

“No, I’ll stop going,” he says firmly. “I’m more a facilitator. I want her to be able to use it if she needs; particularly after a call like that.”

“Fine,” Deb says. “And you don’t come here again. Inspect A, B, and D shifts all you like. Not C shift. And you, stop inviting him to see her for god's sake.”

Lucas is a bit beyond being embarrassed as Deb asks for his phone and scrolls through the text message thread he shares with Hughes. Happily, they’ve been good on that front; there’s a few messages from when he was acting captain at 19 but they are all work related.

“I’m not going to involve HR at this point but you need to stay away from her,” Frankel warns.

Lucas simply leaves his head in his hands.

* * *

 

Vic doesn’t see him for a few months. He’s not at the peer support group (nobody else there knows why). He hasn’t dropped by the station.

She considers texting him, but knows he won’t respond.

She misses him.

Vic next hears his voice when she’s at a scene. There’s a fire in a warehouse complex, and she and Dean are running lines into an abandoned and empty warehouse. It wouldn’t have been the sort of scene that was important enough for him except that the warehouse next to this one was full of agricultural products.

Agricultural products exploded like _crazy_. Hence why the boss was here. They needed to stop that from happening.

Unfortunately, his voice over the radio is ordering the RIT to stay back. The RIT that was for her and Dean.

The empty warehouse they were in? Not so empty. Vic just remembers something exploding, and then the mezzanine level collapsing onto them. Dean’s ankle’s caught, and she’s trapped below a beam. She tries to lift it off her, succeeds in getting an inch of lift.

Suddenly, Dean’s there, and helping her. With his help, they’re able to lift it enough for her to slide out from under it.

“My ankle’s broken,” he reports, and indeed, he’s balancing on one foot.

There’s no point mentioning the pain in her abdomen right now. Instead, she grabs his arm, and supports as much of his body weight as she can as they look around.

She’s got no idea where they are. Miller radios to say that they're free but lost.

“Hughes, Miller,” his voice sounds calm enough over the radio. “We’re activating a PASS alarm at the D side entrance. Follow the noise. If you reach an exterior wall, tell us, and we’ll break it down for you.”

She hears the familiar wail of the PASS alarm, steels herself, and the two of them hobble towards it.

Thankfully they must be close enough that the sound doesn’t distort, and there’s Travis and Andy waiting for them.

Travis grabs her, and helps support her, while Andy helps Dean onto a stretcher. All she remembers of the ride to hospital is Travis’ worried face leaning over her, and watching her blood pressure come up as low.

There’s an ultrasound, then a CT, then Dr Bailey comes around and says they’ll wait and watch the splenic laceration. Vic’s pretty happy with that plan.

She’s quite attached to her spleen.

She gets a pain button, and feels a little high on the medication they’ve got her on. Her team stay for hours, but at some point she must drift off.

She wakes at night thirsty. Vic opens her eyes, and groggily looks around, surprised to realise that one of her hands is being held.

Lucas is there, sitting in the chair, staring at the monitor. He doesn’t notice her wake up, so she takes the opportunity to gaze at him.

He looks exhausted. He’d clearly gone home and changed as he’s in a sweater and t-shirt. His hair is still damp from his shower. His eyes are red.

He has her hand in between two of his.

“What are you doing here?” she rasps and he startles, looking at her face.

“I’m…I wanted to see how you were,” he says.

“I haven’t seen you in months,” she doesn’t quite know why she’s being so accusatory when she’s just so _glad_ and happy to see him.

“I’m not supposed to be here now,” he takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I was a bit too obvious with how I … how I felt about you and Sullivan has known me long enough to see that I … well. After I hugged you that time, he and Frankel pulled me aside and threatened to refer me to HR if I had any contact with you. I didn’t want that for you or for me so…”

“I’ve missed you,” Vic admits, gripping his hand tightly.

“I’ve missed you too,” he says, looking down at her hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t send a RIT today.”

“You did the right thing,” she replies, confused. “It was an exploding, collapsing, on fire building. You couldn’t send anyone in.”

“I nearly did,” he glances back at her and she can see that he’s crying.

“Come here,” Vic urges. He hesitates. “There’s no one here, I’m not going to tell HR, and I want a hug from you.”

He lets go of her hand and leans forward. She wraps her arms around him, and pulls him down into a proper hug.

He’s warm and solid and Vic starts to cry into his shoulder herself. He smells so good, and she tucks her nose into his neck and takes a deep breath. Her hands slide over his shoulder blades in a soothing motion.

“All I thought about was you, on the way here. And how I wanted you to know that I think I really like you. Actually, I think I might be in love with you,” she whispers.

He pulls back, but instead of retreating fully like she sort of expected he would, he rests his forehead against hers. His tears mingle with hers as they drop from his face.

“I’m in love with you,” his voice is hoarse. His eyes are fixed to hers and she is melting and drowning and she thinks being blown up a bit is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

“People must meet at work,” she says desperately, gazing into his blue, blue eyes. “Isn’t there a way we can see each other?”

He nods. “I was actually going to go to HR in the morning and report myself,” he admits. “The whole point of not being with you was to not take advantage and to keep my objectivity in scenes like that today. But I already have feelings for you, so my objectivity is already questionable.”

“You did the right thing anyway,” she interrupts.

“But if I’d been with you I don’t know if I would have.”

“You’re a good man,” she says with conviction. “I know you’d’ve done the right thing.”

He doesn’t look as certain.

“What happens if you talk to HR?” she asks.

“Not sure. People have pre-emptively reported wanting to start a relationship, but that means we move them out of the chain of command. There’s no easy way to do that because…”

“You’re the top of the chain for everyone,” Vic completes his sentence. He nods.

“The other option is I just resign,” he’s matter of fact about it.

“No,” she says forcefully, and she can see the surprise. “That’s too much pressure for a relationship. You like your job.”

“I like you more,” he says, gently wiping her cheeks.

“Don’t,” she pleads. “Please. Let’s see what HR say.”

“They’ll interview you,” he warns. “Be completely honest about every interaction we’ve ever had. I will be.”

“I will,” she promises, her eyes darting for the first time from his eyes. She licks her dry lips and sees him swallow. “Kiss me now.”

He hesitates, but leans in and brushes his lips on hers.

Vic slides a hand up his neck, urging him closer, and opens her mouth under his. He doesn’t need a lot of encouragement, and his tongue tangles with hers slowly.

He tastes amazing. It’s possibly the best kiss she’s ever had. And that’s despite the fact that the pain in her abdomen is getting up there, and she’s still thirsty, and she is exhausted.

His hair is damp, and curly in between her fingers. His sweater is soft beneath her hand. He has his hands on her cheeks.

They ignore the beeping monitor until the door to her room opens and there’s a pointed cough.

“I let you in on the proviso that you don’t disturb her,” says DeLuca, and Lucas immediately breaks away.

“DeLukes,” Vic’s breathless, and she can feel her face is red. “My fault.”

“Right,” he says, eyeing the two of them. “Either way, it’s 0200 and he’s not supposed to be here.”

“I’ll go,” Lucas’ voice is hoarse and Vic’s a bit proud that he’s as breathless as she is. He hasn’t taken his eyes off her though. “I’ll speak to them in the morning.”

“Promise me you won’t resign,” she asks.

He hesitates, but nods. “Take care,” his hand touches her cheek tenderly. She watches him go.

“So he just said his name and said he was a friend,” DeLuca said, dropping into the seat Lucas had just vacated. “But I recognised him and googled him.”

“He’s my boss’ boss’ boss,” Vic admits.

“Yeah.”

“Nothing’s going on,” she says, but knows it’s a lie. “Well, sort of. It’s complicated. We’re not actually seeing each other. In fact, I haven’t seen him for two months.”

DeLuca eyes her.

“Okay, have a sip of water,” he leans over and brings the straw to her mouth. She obediently sips. “And press this button.” She does, and there’s instant relief. “I actually dated my boss as well. Let’s talk.”

“I made a move on him last year and he brushed me off, said it would be unethical,” Vic explains. “But we work together and so we still see each other and I kissed him at New Year’s and it was amazing and he ran off and then we agreed we’d be friends and we talked as friends and I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him. But I haven’t seen him for a couple of months because at work after a bad case he was there and asked me if I was okay and then I started crying and hugged him in front of my boss and my boss’ boss. So they took him aside and forbade him from seeing me and so that’s the first time I’ve seen him in two months.”

“Right,” DeLuca blinks.

“That was only the second time he kissed me.”

“It looked like a good kiss,” DeLuca teases.

Vic blushes. “It was worth being blown up for.”

“What are you going to do?”

“He’s going to report himself to HR in the morning,” Vic says nervously. “He offered to resign. I won’t let him do that. I’ll resign; there’s other things I can do. He loves his job.”

“People will say things about you,” DeLuca warns.

“I know,” Vic says with a sigh. “But…it’s been over eight months. It started as a crush, then but I feel more for him now than I did when I made a pass at him so what else can I do?”

His pager bleeps, and he sighs as he checks it.

“I better do this. But first, got your phone?”

Vic nods to the nightstand. He hands it to her, and she unlocks it.

“My number is – “ he rattles it off. “Call if you want a friendly ear who understands a bit about the situation you’re in and doesn’t work for him.”

“Thanks, DeLukes.”

* * *

 

Lucas knows he looks rough as he walks into HR. There was no hiding the bags below his eyes this morning, and he had only gotten an hour or two of sleep.

He ends up spending the whole morning there, to the consternation of Kim, his PA, who has to apologise to his morning meetings and rearrange things.

He loses track of who he speaks to as a parade of lawyers, counsellors, HR people come through and ask him the same questions over and over again. There’s not a lot to say. There’s conversations every few weeks at the peer support group, two kisses, and one not-date. He knows he sounds absurd when he says that that’s been enough for him to fall in love with her.

He retreats to his office when he’s done, asking Kim to cancel whatever she can for the afternoon. He feels embarrassed and vulnerable, and wants to hide a bit.

He can’t hide for long as Deb slams open his office door then slams it shut again.

“What the hell, man?” she demands.

“It was a situation that couldn’t continue,” he said, as calmly as he could.

“You weren’t seeing her, it was fine, then you wreck it by reporting yourself!”

“Deb, the reason we have rules is twofold,” Lucas is angry now. He’s done his best for eight months. “The first is to prevent someone in a position of power from taking advantage of that power. She instigated this, she has invited me to … I’m quite confident I haven’t taken advantage of my position. The second thing is to stop conflicts of interest. I’m in love with her, okay? That’s already gone – it doesn’t matter if I’m seeing her or not.”

“I just wish that instead of thinking with your dick you’d think with your head and realise the repercussions –”

“If I’d been thinking with my dick I’d’ve slept with her last year when she invited me to,” he interrupts harshly. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Frankel sighs, and flops into one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“I just don’t want you to lose your job,” she says. “You’re good at your job. Marks would be the front runner and he’s a fucking douchebag.”

“I can’t live like this any more,” Lucas says quietly. “It’s killing me.”

“This is why I don’t date men,” Deb snorts. “So damn clingy.”

“We’re not the ones with a U-Haul reputation,” Lucas snipes back. Deb laughs, and chucks a pen at him.

* * *

 

All of a sudden, there’s like ten people in her room. Travis looks up in alarm.

“We need to talk to Hughes,” Frankel says brusquely to Travis.

“What about?” he says protectively. “She just got blown up!”

“I know what it’s about,” Vic says. “It’s okay, Trav.”

He looks at her sharply. “I’ll be right outside,” he promises.

They’re partway through introductions when the door opens and a tired DeLuca walks in. He’s on an evening shift again.

“I’m Dr DeLuca,” he says, interrupting. “There better be a good reason why you’re here interrogating my patient who has a splenic laceration.”

“It’s okay, DeLukes,” Vic says firmly. “These are folk from HR.”

“You feel up to this?” he asks. Vic nods.

“Just want to get it over with,” she says.

“My patient is still very unwell,” DeLuca warns. “If I have any concerns about her vital signs, or if she has any concerns, I will terminate this interview until she is better.” He points to her. “You. Use the call button.”

“Yes, Doc,” Vic rolls her eyes at him. She’s not sure how many times she has to tell the story, as they ask the same questions over and over again in slightly different ways. Eventually, it’s over, and the group of people file out. Vic glances at the clock. They’ve been there for two and a half hours.

Frankel has stayed behind and she flops into the chair next to Vic’s bed as Travis re-enters the room.

“That took forever!” Travis exclaimed.

“Give us a few more minutes,” Frankel orders, but Vic’s done.

“No, Travis can stay,” she says. She turns to her friend. “Travis, I lied to you. It wasn’t just a crush on Ripley, and we’ve spent months trying to not be involved but we can’t do it anymore.”

Travis’ jaw drops.

“He reported himself to HR,” Vic continues. “That’s who they were.”

“Even _if_ HR approves this,” Frankel says. “I want you to think about the repercussions. If they approve this, it’ll be because I will be the top of your chain of command. You’ll have to be twice as good to get promoted to avoid any suspicion of bias, and even then, people will still call you a whore who got the job on her back.”

“People say that about female officers regardless of whether or not  they’re actually in any kind of relationship with a male superior,” Vic responds firmly. “And I’m not like Herrera or Bishop. I love being a firefighter, I’m not someone who needs to be in charge.”

“Well, I’m hoping that changes in the next few years,” Frankel says briskly. “You have real potential. I don’t want to see it wasted over some guy. Keep in mind, as I say that, that I count Rip as a friend. Just…consider it. There are other men out there who aren’t your boss.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone quite like him out there,” Vic says. “Believe me, I’ve looked over the last few months.” Frankel sighs.

“All right, Hughes,” she says. “Get better.”

As she leaves, Vic looks back at Travis whose jaw is still on the floor. She sighs, and prepares to run through the story again.

* * *

She has no contact with him while HR does its thing. He doesn’t visit her again at hospital. He doesn’t call her when she gets home. He’s not at the peer support group when she goes there to talk about being blown up.

She’s been back at work for a couple of weeks. It’s late in the day before she checks her email (never previously one to check it, Vic over the last few months has checked it religiously every Friday because that’s when Lucas sends out his department wide weekly update email that has his face on it).

There’s an email from HR and she can’t quite breathe.

“Travis!” she yells, and after a brief moment, footsteps thunder down the stairs and her friend comes and sits next to her.

“What’s up – oh,” he says, spotting the email.

“I haven’t read it yet,” she says, nervously wringing her hands and chanting the song in her head.

“Okay, do you want me to?” he asks gently. She nods, and he clicks it open. She screws her eyes shut.

It seems to take him forever to read it.

“There’s no case for sexual harassment, but we knew that already,” Travis says. “And Battalion Chief Frankel – or whomever your Battalion Chief is – is the person who is in charge of any and all promotional or disciplinary actions referred upward by your Captain.”

He pauses. “Pretty sure that means you’re now allowed to bone him.”

She blushes, and shoves him in the shoulder hard.

Her phone rings about ten minutes later. It’s him. She goes outside to take the call, as Travis waggles his eyebrows meaningfully.

* * *

He’d nearly missed the email. HR had sent it just before 1700 on a Friday. But he’d been running late, and he’d just refreshed the email before going home.

He’s glad he was running late, and glad that he refreshed it now, as he stands at the front of her apartment complex with a bunch of flowers. He’d rung her as soon as he’d read the email, and asked to take her out to breakfast after her shift.

“Come on up, it’s 2-11,” she says through the intercom. The door buzzes, and he lets himself in, heading up to the second floor.

She answers the door immediately after the first knock.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” she says.

They’re grinning stupidly at each other.

“These are for you,” he says, proffering the flowers. She looks surprised.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been given flowers before,” she admits, heading to a kitchen. She finds a tall glass, fills it with water and puts flowers in it. “Except, I mean, when I was hospital. Not from a date.”

“Well, you said your type was assholes and idiots,” Lucas says shyly. She looks surprised that he remembers.

There’s a charged moment of silence, and then all of a sudden, she’s in his arms and kissing him fiercely. He doesn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her back.

She backs up against the kitchen counter, and Lucas follows, her ankle hooking around the back of his knee and pulling his pelvis closer. He groans.

* * *

The plan had been breakfast. And when Vic had invited him up, it was because she was still trying to find her boots and hadn’t brushed her teeth and wasn’t quite ready to go out.

But he’d brought her _flowers_. And she’d initially thought to just kiss him a little as thanks, but he had returned her kiss so warmly that it had gotten a little out of hand.

She backed up until she could feel the kitchen counter behind her.

His hair was just as soft as she remembered. He was wearing a button up shirt and she shyly pulled the back of it out from his jeans and slipped her hand up his back. She was rewarded with a groan into her mouth, and his hands slowly slid from her hair to her hips. One slipped beneath her shirt, meandering up to her bra, while the other grabbed the curve of her ass, helping hoist her leg up higher around his leg.

“Let’s have breakfast later,” she pants breathlessly as his mouth migrates along her jaw and down her neck. He pulls back, eyes almost completely black with desire, lips swollen and red, hair a complete mess.

“This wasn’t the kind of breakfast I had in mind,” he admits hoarsely. “But I think it’s a much better idea.”

She smiles at him and brings her hands around to the front of his shirt, caressing his neck.

“My bedroom’s there,” she orders, pointing. He picks her up, and she wraps her legs around his hips. He sort of stumbles in the right direction, but Vic doesn’t really care about making it easier for him when his lips are right there and she’s finally allowed to kiss him.

His knees hit her bed and they topple onto her bed. Vic immediately starts unbuttoning his shirt as quickly as she can, caressing the lean defined muscles below.

Lucas is just showing off, at this point, as he bites and nibbles and sucks and kisses her neck. He’s managed to undo her bra, and one hand is now teasing a nipple while his other hand boosts her under her ass up the bed so their legs aren't hanging off the end.

His jeans must be uncomfortable, Vic thinks idly as she wraps her jean-clad legs around his hips and starts moving against the tent in his pants. He grunts, pulls his mouth away from her neck, and rips her shirt over her head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, looking her up and down. Vic blushes.

“You’re pretty hot yourself,” she says appreciatively. He smiles gently down at her and lowers his mouth to hers again, his arms braced on either side of her head.

Their hips slow down from a frantic dry humping to a more leisurely grinding, which feels amazing through the jeans. Her nipples rub against his warm chest as he kisses her slowly. She moans, and arcs up into him as his tongue twists against hers.

She’s fumbling with his belt, manages to get it open and unzips his jeans, reaching in to grasp him firmly.

He gasps into her mouth, and pulls back.

“Victoria,” he moans, resting his forehead against hers. “Victoria, if you keep doing that this will be over way too quickly.”

She grins at him, but lets go, letting that hand trail up his stomach and chest. He smiles back, lightly kisses her lips, and then starts to work his way down her neck and chest, tongue slipping over an erect nipple before taking that breast in his mouth.

“Lucas,” she gasps.

He spends some time on each breast as she strokes his hair and caresses his back, before he starts to work down towards her hips. He kisses just above the button of her jeans and then undoes the button and the zip. She lifts her hips to help, and he peels her jeans and underwear off. They’re skinny jeans, so he has to follow them all the way down.

He’s thrown them in the corner, and she tries to memorise the look on his face as he looks up to her, completely naked, legs spread for him.

He’s wild-eyed, dishevelled, and intent and has never been more attractive. The grin he gives her is less Boy Scout and more…dirty.

Lucas surprises her though, by not just coming straight for her. Instead, he delicately kisses an ankle, and works his way up her leg slowly. She can’t help but drop a hand to her clit as she watches his curly head make his way close to her. As he gets to the apex of her thighs, he grabs the hand that has been playing with her clit and licks her fingers clean. She moans, as he releases her finger with a pop, before lowering his mouth to her. He looks up and their eyes lock as he leans down and slowly licks at her. Vic’s head falls back, and he speeds up, sucking and licking. He slides first one finger then two into her, pumping slowly with them while he makes love to her with his mouth.

It doesn’t take her long until she’s crying out his name then slumping bonelessly back onto the bed. He stands, pulls his jeans and his underwear down. She can’t help an appreciative once over. He clambers over her and kisses her gently.

He’s pulled his wallet from his jeans pocket, and she laughs at him.

“You keep a condom in your wallet?” she asks, stroking his beard.

“Not normally,” he blushes. “I hoped I might need one today so I bought some.”

“Well, I’m clean and on the pill,” she offers impulsively, surprising herself. She’s always used a condom. Before. 

“You sure?” he asks, and she nods. He grins. “Okay.”

He slides in excruciatingly slowly. It feels so much better, but Vic wonders how much of that is the lack of the condom and how much of it is the fact that this is Lucas Ripley inside her.

She slides her arms around his shoulders, drawing him close.

“Okay?” he checks once he’s fully inside.

“Nearly,” she says, and uses his moment of surprise to flip them. Being on top makes her sink an extra half-inch down, and he feels so good.

“God,” he grunts, eyelids fluttering in pleasure.

“I like to be on top,” she says as she slowly rises up and slides back down.

“You have no idea how well that works for me,” he says with a grin. She leans down to kiss him, before focussing on riding him as hard as she can. He busies his mouth with her tits, while his hands caress and squeeze her ass. She’s surprised to find her orgasm building quickly again, and her pace quickens and becomes more erratic.

“Luke,” she moans as he helps her up and down. As she comes, she slumps against him. He’s still hard inside her, and he flips her roughly and starts driving into her.

She grabs his muscled ass, urging him on.

He must have been close himself, because he only pounds into her for half-dozen thrusts or so before slumping down on her with a long groan and she feels him come and start to soften. He moves to pull out, but she tightens her hands on his ass, keeping him in place.

“Hi,” she says, looking into his eyes.

“Hey,” he smiles gently down to her, and leans down for another kiss.

They don’t end up having breakfast, or even lunch. It ends up being mid-afternoon by the time they drag themselves out of bed.

* * *

 

She’s had all weekend with him. Most of it was spent in bed, but when they went out to dinner it didn’t feel like a first date. It felt like she’d known him forever. (Or, at least eight months).

Victoria’s never felt like this before. He’s the most interesting and the best person she’s ever met.

She’s kind of hoping he doesn’t mind getting married a third time. And wants to have children.

So she’s not terribly surprised when, on walking into work, Miller immediately accuses her of swagger. Vic knows she’s blushing.

“Who is he?” Maya drawls.

“His name is Luke,” Vic figures the best way to keep him partly secret is to reveal enough that they get bored of pushing for information. They’ll find out eventually, but for now she wants to keep him to herself a bit.

“Do we know him?” Miller demands, obviously mentally drawing up a list of people he knows called Luke.

“Travis does,” Vic replies. This way, she can talk to Travis about it easily.

“Oh, from the peer support group?” Travis has obviously caught on and is smirking at her. Vic blushes. “Finally, Vic.”

“I know, right?” she agrees.


End file.
